Jack went to work, and Grandpa and I organized a picnic below the tree where the mage had hung himself. I learned his name in case that was important.
Mr. Archibald Telor was his name, apparently, a suitably dark surname.
This time, I did none of the kneeling or other ritualistic humiliation. I laid a warm blanket over the wet, cold grass, and sat on it, organizing the food.
The only difference from a normal picnic was that it was cold and there was incense burning.
If you ask me, it's a waste to burn incense outside, but I don't know if it's needed or not. I wasn't sure what was needed for this.
"You sure this will work?" Grandpa asked, skeptically, as he also sat on the blanket, peeling an apple.
I poured him some mulled wine.
After some consideration, I decided I didn't want to d
